


Stars in His Eyes

by A_Lonely_Soul (ImpendingExodus)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (I'm new here idk how to tag things), First Kiss, Galaxy Garrison, Happy Ending, Keith doesn't know what feelings are, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Shiro's just lonely, Slow Build, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 15:40:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9130879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpendingExodus/pseuds/A_Lonely_Soul
Summary: Keith loved the stars.  That was the reason for entering the Garrison -- well, that and the fact that he was trying his best to run away from his unhappy past.  The only feelings he knew were the ones needed to keep him alive.  Anger.  Sadness.  The occasional flashes of mild happiness.  This new feeling that he got whenever he caught a glimpse of the new transfer student, it was unknown and somewhat terrifying.  Because this new student, whoever he was, had stars in his eyes.  Keith's stars.  And he wanted them back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, my first Sheith fic! This is a gift for heroicwonder on tumblr, as part of the Sheith secret santa project. I had a ton of fun writing this (despite the fact that it grew all out of proportions and gained CHAPTERS *gasp*), and I hope everyone enjoys reading it!

Keith entered his astrophysics classroom with his head down, attention focused on keeping his armload of textbooks from tumbling to the floor.  He had not one, not two, but _three_ papers due within a couple of weeks, and he’d been camped out all night in the Garrison’s small library doing research.  Admittedly it would have been far easier to simply log into a computer and utilize the school’s gigantic electronic database, but he was old-fashioned and preferred the scent and weight of real books. 

He was so focused on his books that he managed to sit down and get out his notebook and pen before it dawned on him that the classroom was completely empty.  Standing up from his chosen place at the very back of the room, he looked around to make sure, but there wasn’t so much as an exhausted student asleep on their desk to be seen.  Even the instructor wasn’t there yet, which was a first -- Keith was notoriously late to every class he had, regardless of when he left his dorm. 

Had there been a fire drill and he somehow hadn’t noticed? 

Sullenly he nudged the library books into a neater stack on the desk beside him.  It _would_ just be his luck that he’d dragged his ass all the way to the classroom only to find out that class had been cancelled today.  Typical.  He plucked one book off the top of the pile and began leafing through it, eyes blurring over the lines of text.  Might as well get some research done, right?  Better than hauling his stuff all over the Garrison again. 

But just as he’d managed to force himself to make sense of the equations on the first page, the door banged open and Commander Hedrick hurried in, notes and papers trailing behind him like a whirlwind of academic dishabille. 

Keith stood up and gave a salute that the older man didn’t notice. 

“What’s going on, sir?  Where is everybody?” 

Hedrick grunted.  “I was going to ask you the same thing, cadet.”

 “Oh.”  Keith sat back down and pulled the library book back into his lap.  Maybe Hedrick would call off class today and he could get ahead on his papers instead. 

“Well, it’s oh-nine-hundred hours.  Time for class to start.” 

No such luck then.  Sighing, Keith set the book aside again and flipped open his notebook. 

“Still,” the instructor continued, “you deserve extra credit for _being the only one here_.” He glared around the empty room with a gaze that would have liquified any students if they’d been present.  “Fifty points to Kogane for showing up.  Now, on to ___...” 

The lecture droned on for fifty minutes.  Keith’s hand was cramping badly; he’d been taking notes all night, and he still had a whole day of classes ahead of him.  He’d already caught himself about to nod off a couple of times, and with no other people to distract Hedrick’s attention, he knew that if he passed out he would be noticed.  Somehow he made it through the entire class period; being pinned under the instructor’s gaze, without anyone else to cover for him, was exhausting and very, very stressful. 

When the lecture was finally over, Keith breathed a (very quiet) sigh of relief and began gathering up his stuff. 

Hedrick stacked up his own books and notes with unnecessary force, clearly still angry over the mass desertion.  Keith mentally thanked his stars that he didn’t have Hedrick for his next class; there was sure to be hell to pay, assuming that anyone showed up. 

“Hey, cadet.” 

Keith froze for an instant, then snapped to a salute, library books clutched tight in his free hand.

 “Give my regards to all of your classmates for this section, will you?”  Hedrick smiled unpleasantly as he left the classroom. 

Well, that would be an easy way to put the fear of God into any students he might run into, Keith mused.  Skipping out on one of Hedrick’s classes -- or Iverson’s, or Dos Santos’, or anyone’s really -- was tantamount to signing your own death warrant.  Not for the first time in the last hour, Keith wondered what had happened to the whole school.  The last time there’d been a desertion on this scale, it was because the seniors had managed to shut down all the automatic doors, leaving the majority of the student body trapped in their dorms.  Keith himself had been a victim of that prank at least temporarily, until he’d dismantled his bedframe into a makeshift crowbar.  But he was fairly certain that that was not the case today. 

The halls between classrooms were slightly more populous, but they were a far cry from the usual early-morning bustle of students rushing to and from classes.  Keith rather liked it this way, calm and quiet and he didn’t have to talk to anyone. 

His next class was computing and as he neared the tech lab, he heard the murmur of many excited voices talking all at once.  Hopefully eavesdropping would answer his curiosity.  He entered and headed toward the back corner where he was mostly hidden from the instructor by a bank of monitors. 

Reese and Ginger, two classmates who sat next to him (and he was almost certain copied off of his homework), were giggling together when Keith sat down. 

“Wanna elaborate?” he asked.  “What on earth was going on this morning?  The entire astrophysics class was missing.  I thought Hedrick was going to have a cow!”

 Half the class -- mostly the female half, Keith noted absently -- turned to stare at him with scandalized expressions.

 “How have you _not_ heard?” a redheaded girl across the aisle from him asked.  “Are you like, a hermit or something?” 

“Or something,” someone else muttered but was shielded from Keith’s glare by a desktop computer screen.

 “Whatever.”  He dismissed the insult.  “But now I wanna know what’s going on in the outside world.  I mean, even Hedrick didn’t know.”

 “Shirogane arrived today.” 

“Takashi,” the redhead murmured. 

“What?  Who?” 

“Takashi Shirogane,” Reese repeated as if he somehow hadn’t caught it the first time around.  The rest of the class was still staring at him and it was making him more jumpy by the second. 

“ _Who_?” he finally managed, again. 

“The best damn pilot in Garrison history.  He was studying at the Japanese branch but he’s transferring here this semester since our simulator is the only one up and running yet.  Oh, and there’s word that he’s on the short list of candidates for the Kerberos mission.  So yeah.  Kogane, you might want to pay a little attention if you want to get anywhere in life.” 

It took Keith a split second to process that, and another half a second to realize that it had been said by none other than Commander Iverson himself, who was currently peering into the classroom with his characteristic one-eyed scowl.  Most of the class saluted; some ducked down behind the computer monitors and prayed that they were hidden.  Iverson grunted and made to leave, then leaned back in at the last moment. 

"By the way, Dr. Ryu is running late today because of all the damn rubberneckers gawking at Shirogane.  He'll be here in a little while, so don't go running off thinking that class is cancelled, okay?" 

A chorus of "yes sir" rang out as he turned and left, and Keith relaxed somewhat in his seat.  _Shirogane_.  He knew he'd heard that name before, probably on the news or somewhere.  But even if he was an ace pilot, and even if he was slotted for the upcoming Kerberos Mission, that didn't really matter.  After all, Keith was only a first-year student, and Shirogane was almost graduated from the sound of things.  There was no reason for competition -- or even any contact at all, really -- between the two of them.

The conversation picked back up in the room now that there were no senior officers present, and Keith returned to staring morosely at his library books and wondering if it was worth the effort to flip through them again. 

"Hey."  A girl slid into the open seat next to Keith and dumped her pencil case on the desk.

"Huh?  What?"

But she wasn't talking to Keith, as she turned her back on him to face the girl in the next seat over. 

"Guess what?" she continued in a low conspiratorial voice, and Keith couldn't help but tune in.  "I got to see him firsthand." 

"No way!" the other squealed, clapping her hands over her mouth.  She hyperventilated for a moment before adding, "So what's he look like?  Spill!" 

The first girl giggled and squirmed in her seat.  "You won't believe me if I tell you." 

Keith rolled his eyes hard, then repeated the motion for good measure.  Was _this_ really the sort of stuff that filled girls' heads?  There was a quiz this morning; they should be cramming!  But then, it's not like he was being a model student right now either...and his curiosity had been roused.  He tuned his ears to their excited whispers. 

"...I swear he looked right at me as he was walking past.  I mean, the halls were pretty crowded, but I was right there up front and he just -- he just --"  She cleared her throat, perhaps aware that she was attracting too much attention.  "And his eyes, okay, they're like...the night sky, just sparkling with stars.  Gorgeous.  His face is so kind and handsome and you can tell he's a real gentleman --" 

Keith already wished he could turn off his ears.  There was no useful intel to be gathered from this source, that much was clear.  Besides, he had far more important things to be doing than imagining what color the night sky looked like in terms of eyes, and how being a gentleman could show up in someone's face.  He'd seen plenty of guys with pretty faces and bad attitudes, and vice versa, in his life.  Still, it would be nice to know what Shirogane _actually_ looked like, in case Keith ran into him in the halls.  If he really was going to be on the Kerberos Mission, if someday he was going to be an icon of space exploration, then Keith at least wanted to be able to say that he'd met the guy. 

Dr. Ryu chose that moment to walk into the classroom and all conversations petered out into stressed silence as the quiz was handed out.  Keith looked over the page of algorithms and allowed his mind to wander for one brief second.  _Eyes like stars, huh.  Fitting for a man who's destined for space.  Maybe I do want to meet him after all.  It's the closest I'll get to the stars in my lifetime._  

* * * 

Shiro knew there were going to be good days and bad days at the new Garrison Academy he'd transferred to.  It would be the same as the branch back in Japan, only here he'd be roommates with Matt, he'd have a working simulator to practice in, and theoretically the instructors would give him tips on what it took to be an actual real pilot in actual real outer space. 

What he hadn’t expected was the over-exuberant welcome he’d received from the moment he stepped off the bus from the airport.  A crowd of students -- first, second, third, and even a handful of fourth-years -- were gathered at the terminal there on the outskirts of the Garrison’s campus.  At first Shiro had looked around, confused.  Was there something important going on today?  Why was everyone there?  But then it dawned on him, from the cheering students shouting his name, that they were there for _him_.  Unbelievable.  The Garrison had told him that they’d make a hero out of him, and he hadn’t even done anything yet! 

It was all terribly embarrassing and somewhat annoying.  Shiro was a modest person, not making a big deal out of himself, and here were dozens of people lined up (and skipping class) just to see him?!  Still, not one to disappoint when things were expected of him, he gave a polite wave and a slight bow to the crowd, which set them off on another round of cheering.  At least they weren’t trying to get close to him -- yet. 

He turned back to the bus to grab his bags only to find that a couple of cadets had already done so, and were standing by as if awaiting his orders. 

“Um, I can get those --” Shiro said, starting to reach hopefully for his stuff.  There were books and his laptop and _fragile_ things in there.  He’d feel so much better if he was the one handling the baggage. 

“No, no, it’s all good.”  The two male students smiled at him.  “Where do you want us to take them?  Do you know your room assignment yet?”

“Yes, I have a room.  And I can get there on my own, thank you.”  He reached for the luggage and after a moment of hesitation they handed it over.  Offending a lot of people on his first day on campus wasn’t on his list of priorities, but it was better to set boundaries up front.  Besides, from the comments he overheard as he walked toward the dorm wing of the huge complex, the crowd making way before him like the Red Sea, carrying the baggage accentuated his muscles.  Shiro wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, but at least no one seemed greatly offended, so he ignored it as best he could and hoped they couldn’t tell how his face was burning. 

The welcome hardly abated at all over the next few days.  Students trailed him around the building whenever he left his room; they were quick to offer to guide him wherever he needed to go, and they offered tips about the Garrison officers and regulations and which instructors to avoid at all costs.  The first night, someone even paid for his dinner at the cafeteria before he realized it.  Everyone was very friendly and attentive to his every need, which made the transition into the new school not nearly as stressful as Shiro had feared.   

He just wasn’t sure of his standing among them.  Was he simply a novelty to them?  Maybe they treated every newcomer this way, until the excitement died down.  Of course there was the aura of the Kerberos Mission that haunted him everywhere he went.  The rumors surrounded him like a cloud, except even he didn’t know any more than the rest of the students.  They all knew he was on the list for the mission, but nothing was set in stone yet and if he heard one more question about _when will you know if you’re gonna be the Kerberos pilot?_ he was going to start throwing things.  So there was also the pet project aspect which was sure to pique a lot of interest. 

But at dinner of the second day, the atmosphere quickly changed.  No matter where he sat in the cafeteria, students always pulled up chairs and gathered around like it was preschool storytime.  Shiro preferred eating alone, but food was prohibited in the dorm rooms and he couldn’t escape his crowd of attendants. 

“At least the food here is pretty good, right?” he said, trying to make conversation.  Being the center of attention felt less like being a hero-in-the-making and more like a bug on a pin. 

“Mostly,” a chunky first-year agreed.  “But they really need to learn how to cook vegetables,” he added mournfully.  “They’re kinda slop.”  A glob of mashed potatoes fell off his spoon onto his plate with a splat. 

“Well as long as the peas are cooked well, at least Matt will be happy!”  Shiro smiled to himself and scooped up a spoonful of his own overcooked potatoes. 

“Who’s Matt?” 

“He’s my roommate.  He’ll be here in a few days.”  Shiro paused with the food halfway to his mouth, and slowly looked up to find all eyes on him, staring silently.  “What?” 

That was the last time he had to eat while under surveillance.  The hallways patrols stopped accompanying him as regularly, too, although there were several students that still hung around, either desperately hopeful or uninformed. 

Huh.  So they’d been gunning to sleep with him.  He couldn’t really fathom _why_ , nor if they’d wanted it literally or figuratively -- just being roommates and nothing more, or _ahem_.  Well.  _That_ was rather low on his list of priorities at the moment.  And while he had the pick of the school, he didn’t feel like taking advantage of his position.  There was a lot more important stuff to be attended to first. 

(And as for everyone’s automatic assumption that he and Matt were involved, well, clearly they’d never met Matt.  All that that boy was interested in was robots and ice cores and _science, Shiro, science!_   Shiro didn’t think that dating had ever crossed Matt’s mind, nor was it likely to in the future.) 

It was nice, though, to lose the escort for the most part.  It was interesting to see how many people had been hanging around in hopes that they’d get to room with him, and how many were simply enamored with him himself.  It did make Shiro wonder what _they_ could possibly be hoping to get. 

Well, he’d had his share of people trying to use him for their own gain in the past, and this wouldn’t be the first time that they lost interest when he was passively uncooperative.  Although technically even now he was still willingly working with people who were just using him: the Garrison needed someone to be the face of the new Kerberos Mission, and he had fit the bill.  Dr. Holt (Commander? Shiro wasn’t sure of his new standing) was too old to draw audiences and the funding such audiences supplied, and there was no question that Matt was far from photogenic, with his coke-bottle glasses and too-cheesy grin.  So Shiro had been persuaded to sign up to be the pilot, not realizing that there would be very little flight training involved and a whole lot of photo shoots and interviews and other publicity stunts. 

So it was a nice change to be in a school that took itself seriously (too seriously, maybe, from the harsh attitudes of a lot of the instructors).  But at least this branch of the Garrison had managed to gather enough funding to get their simulator up and running, so that was a good sign. 

This next year would be one giant cram session of all the information that should have been covered while Shiro was instead busy being posed in front of a dozen different cameras for a dozen different magazine covers.  When the Garrison had approached him with the offer to become their poster boy, this hadn’t been what he’d had in mind.  But if it got him into space, it would be worth it.  So he gave everyone a smile, as genuine as he could muster, and played along with whatever game they presented him with.

The constant attention (more like being under surveillance every time he left his room) got on his nerves after a couple of days.  It was far from pleasant to use the bathroom under the watchful eyes of one’s classmates, and if one more girl -- or boy, for that matter, there had been a few of those too -- knocked on his door and said shyly that she was lost and could he please help her find her dorm room?, he was afraid he would snap.  That wouldn’t be good for publicity, nor for his chances of making it into the final round of candidates for the mission, so he gritted his teeth and smiled as best he could (his smile was getting smaller and less sincere the longer this went on) and did as he was asked.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance makes a cameo appearance, gets beat up, and exits stage left. Keith isn't happy.

It took a bit of amateur hacking (seriously though, Garrison security was a joke) but Keith managed to get into the student database later that evening via one of the library terminals.  According to the records generated that morning, Shirogane was bunking with one Matt Holt over in the seniors' wing of the dorms.  Keith stared at the map of the facilities and a voice in the back of his head was cussing him out for not working on his research papers but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Would it be possible to swing by that end of the dorms on his way back from the library to his own room?  A quick glance at the hallways told him that he'd have to make a very long detour indeed to pass by Shirogane's room.  And even if he did that, the odds were good that he'd only be confronted by a solid metal door with a couple of nametags on it.  No, there needed to be a better method...

Maybe he could get lost -- he was a freshman after all; lost students wandering the halls at unholy hours weren't unheard-of -- and happen to knock on that particular door and ask for help getting back to his dorm?  Keith paused for a moment, his hand hovering over the keyboard.  Behind him the library was dimly lit and empty.  It would be a short trek over to the seniors' wing, and finding the door wouldn't be that hard.  He wasn't too sure of his ability to play the part, but he didn't need to, really.  Being lost was just an excuse to get that door open.

He logged out of the computer quickly, erasing all traces of his visit.  His pile of reference materials was considerably thinned out from that morning as he'd narrowed down his research topic, and he shoved all the books into his bag.  Shoulder aching under the renewed weight -- he was sure there were bruises where the strap had dug into him -- he strode to the door before stopping again.

 _Come on, Keith.  Chickening out already?_ He ground his teeth but his feet refused to move.  What on earth was he doing?!  He was about to go make a damn fool of himself in front of the man who would one day be a hero.  He was going to fake his own incompetence in front of a complete stranger, just so he could see the stars hidden in those eyes.  Ha.  Stars.  The girls were exaggerating, they always were.  When Keith himself had first come to the Garrison, they'd been all over him, too, complimenting his looks and his abilities until his icy personality drove them all away.  Not as if he cared.  Obviously the students were just enamored with the newcomer, nothing more.  Not worth it.

Right?

Keith slapped his hand on the door panel, and all but launched himself through the doorway.  He didn't need to see Shirogane.  They would meet eventually one way or another, and waiting a few more days wouldn't hurt anything.  He stormed off in the direction of the first years' dorms and didn't look back.

* * *

But contrary to his belief, Keith didn't see Shirogane the next day, or even the next week.  The Garrison was still abuzz with gossip even though from the outlandish nature of most of the stories, they were pure fiction.  One girl claimed that "Shiro" (as most of the students had taken to calling him) had asked her to join him for lunch.  Another one quickly escalated into a claim that she had slept with Shiro.  A conflicting rumor stated that the new student was involved in a torrid romance with his roommate and wasn't interested in anyone else regardless of gender.  Keith didn't bother listening anymore.  Midterms were coming up quickly, and like any sensible student he was cramming as much information into his brain as fast as he could assimilate it.

His thoughts of a week ago, seeming so sensible and wholesome by the light of the computer screen in the darkened library, had turned sour.  He still couldn't grasp why he had thought it so important to know what Shiro looked like.  Why had he cared at all?  New students were transferred in all the time.  His self-doubt congealed into a lump of anger that settled up against his stomach and wouldn't let him sleep well at night.

It irked him to no end that he couldn't find a reason for his actions.  Sure, he was impulsive and reckless and sometimes didn't think things all the way through, but at least he always had a _reason_ , even if it was only a passing fancy.  He knew there had been something wrapped around his mind that night, something more than curiosity.  Something that had started when the girls in Dr. Ryu's class were talking.  But he'd never felt it before, and he had no words to put to it.

So he went about his routine a bit more angrily than usual, and life carried on.

Keith wasn't the only student carrying extra stress during exam week.  He was crossing the paved courtyard, a breath of fresh air on his way between classes, when shouting broke out some distance to the side.  He knew he shouldn't interfere with a fight; he should go get security, or head on to class and say he'd seen nothing.  But he was addled on caffeine and anxiety, and his steps strayed toward the scuffle.

A tall gangly beanpole wearing a cadet's uniform was on the ground, his backpack torn open and books scattered around.  He looked scared for his life, staring with eyes and mouth wide as he sat paralyzed gazing up at his attacker.  A thin trickle of blood ran unnoticed down his chin from his split lower lip.  The other cadet, the one with red on his knuckles, was a second-year known for his bullying and outright aggression.  No one knew why he hadn't been kicked out long ago for physical assault, but the commonly accepted story was that he was some commander's kid who was here on a free ride scholarship.  Regardless, he towered a head above Keith, and outweighed him by at least fifty pounds.

_Nope, sorry, cadet.  Sucks to be you.  You're on your own._

The bully aimed a kick at the downed student, who gathered his wits for a second and rolled out of the way.

"C'mon, get up!" someone yelled from the slowly gathering crowd of students.

"Fight him!" another screamed.

"Teach him his lesson, Kristoph!"

"Get up, boy!  You can do it!"

Keith was starting to edge away.  There were classes he couldn't be late to, and the sight of blood did nothing for him.  He winced in sympathy as a second kick from the bully connected with the skinny kid's ribs, then sucked in a sudden breath at the empty feeling in his own lungs.

_Air.  He couldn't breathe.  His lungs hurt as if nails had been driven between his ribs.  The three other orphans, all much bigger than him, blocked out the light as they leaned over him.  Keith curled in on himself, pulling his knees up tightly even though that only made it hurt worse.  If they saw he wasn't much fun, if he didn't fight back, they'd lose interest quickly.  He gasped for what air he could draw into his lungs, and hoped._

_Abel, three years older and a hundred pounds bigger, grabbed a fistful of dark hair and yanked upward.  A yelp clawed its way up Keith's throat; he couldn't stop himself.  The other two, twins named Darron and Cade, hoisted him up by his arms when the hair pull wasn't enough to make him regain his feet._

_Keith stood, swaying slightly, and clenched his little ten-year-old fists.  Should he fight back, should he not?  His blood was screaming for a fight, thundering in his ears and blinding his vision -- or was that tears?  Fear had him shaking in every limb, his stomach churning and his chest clenching like a heart attack.  The combination left him disoriented and Keith threw a halfhearted punch in Abel's direction.  Then he turned and ran, stumbling over the floor of the abandoned barn, bashing his skinny legs on things he didn't stop to see, and driving himself faster faster faster toward the bright rectangle of the open door._

_Weight crashed into him from behind, slamming his chin into the floor.  Keith tasted blood filling his nose and mouth.  The breath was forced from his lungs again and every beat of his heart hurt worse than the last.  Was this what it felt like to die?  Bitter iron clouded his senses and he flailed to regain his feet but he couldn't move.  A heavy boot crushed his right hand into the hard-packed dirt.  Someone's hands were on his left wrist, bending his arm back into a painful twist.  His legs kicked uselessly against the ground but lacked the coordination to get any leverage._

_Keith opened his mouth to cry out but his voice was an airless gasp and he coughed on the blood running down his throat.  Dull voices rumbled above him but he couldn't make out the words, only the fact that any noise at all make his skull ache and pound.  Something cold pressed against his neck, harsh and dangerous, and then the hot heavy bodies were off of him and there was more shouting, screaming, a new angry voice added to the mix._

_Completely on blind instinct he got to his feet and ran, and they let him.  The sunlight dazzled him but he somehow kept moving, limping, whimpering through his broken mouth.  When he felt coarse grass under his feet he knew he was in the field behind the orphanage.  Not that there was any more hope of rescue in the field or in the barn, but at least the ground was more forgiving here.  He reeled drunkenly in a half-circle, staggered a bit with his arms wrapped around his burning chest, and collapsed._

"Hey, talk to me.  Come on.  Say something."  A strong voice, calming in its steady tone, brought Keith back to the world.

His chest still ached, but it was a dull distant throb like an old bruise.  He kept his eyes shut and hugged himself tighter before slowly uncurling.

"'m okay," he muttered in a ghost of a voice, heard by no one.

Slowly he became aware that he was, somehow, still on his feet.  Was he not at the orphanage?  Where were the three other boys?  Realization crashed over him like a cold wave.  He was standing alone in the Garrison's courtyard in the middle of a crowd of other students, all with their attention focused on...

He had to close his eyes again for a moment while the world shifted around its axis and he took stock of where he was.  Not the victim this time.  Never again.

The lanky, tan-skinned cadet was being helped to his feet by a man with broad shoulders.  The bully was nowhere to be seen.  Blood spattered in tiny droplets around the cadet's feet and Keith had to look away to avoid being dragged back to the past.  So he looked at their faces instead.

The cadet was all hard angles and long lines; his face was sharp and lean, his long chin accentuated by his split lip swollen all out of proportion.  But what snagged Keith’s attention was the man pulling the victim to his feet and brushing the dirt off of him.  Handsome might be a good word to describe him, but Keith wasn't really thinking in terms of words at the moment.  It was more an overwhelming feeling of _holy shit holy shit holyshit_.

He was dressed in the green uniform of graduated pilots and honors students, and Keith could see the way the fabric pulled tight across his shoulders as he helped the cadet up like he weighed nothing.  Keith watched as the man gently took the cadet's chin in his hand, turning his face to the side to inspect the damage.  Something about the scene, that hand so big and obviously strong, juxtaposed with the fragility of bloodied skin, made Keith's own hands clench helplessly.  He wanted that for himself.  He wanted someone to look at him like they cared about him, and touch him like they were actually concerned if he was hurting, and let him know that not everyone in the world would kick him when he was down.

But then the moment was broken and the cadet turned away, shoulders crumpled in on himself and hand cradling his face.  His rescuer rested a hand on his shoulder briefly in a gesture of comfort then turned away, giving Keith a better look at his face.  Dark hair, carefully groomed in the back but falling in messy bangs over his eyes.  A long straight nose, a firm jaw.  An easy, comfortable smile.  _You can tell he's a gentleman just by looking at him._

Keith's hands fell to his sides and he took an unconscious step forward.  This couldn't be -- could it?  Around him, the other gathered students were slowly breaking up and going back to their own business now that the excitement was over.  But Keith stayed where he was, fingers cold and eyes not wavering from the scene in front of him.  The cadet stumbled a bit -- Keith knew the feeling, how his ribs must be burning and every breath was a battle -- and the taller man reached quickly to steady him.

"Thanks, dude," the cadet mumbled, willingly grabbing onto the offered arm for support.

"No problem.  Are you sure you're all right though?  That guy went pretty rough on you."

"Nah, I'll be fine."  Somehow he managed a cheeky grin.  "Besides, I've gotta get to class.  If I'm late again, my life's not going to be worth much!"

"If you're sure."  The pilot (senior? honors student? Keith still couldn't tell) slowly pulled back his hand.  Keith's breath hitched a little at the raw red bruise forming on the man’s knuckles.  That had to be painful; the hand needed to be iced before it became too swollen to move.

Why was he thinking like that?  It wasn't _his_ hand that was injured.  And he had his own classes to go to.  Why on earth was he still standing here?  He felt like a snake mesmerized by a charmer's flute.

It took a great effort but he stepped one foot back, then the other.  It got easier to move the further he backed away.  The details were less vivid and the reality of it was blurred, like a scene in a movie that could never happen in real life.  Keith turned his head partly away but his eyes remained helplessly locked on the man.  Out of the corner of his vision he saw the cadet stumble again and this time the pilot refused to be waved off.

"Enough's enough," Keith heard him say.  "I'm taking you to the infirmary.  You could have a broken rib or something."

The cadet didn't waste breath protesting, instead draping his arm over the pilot's shoulders.  "If you insist."

The taller man held onto the cadet's hand and placed his free arm around his waist for added support.  They hobbled off slowly, limping, leaving the courtyard to return to its usual bustle.  Keith stood in the middle of it all, a frozen statue.  The two were out of sight by the time his eyes refocused and he became aware again of his surroundings.  His arms were gripping tightly around his chest again, although he wouldn't exactly say that he was still in pain.  That feeling had faded, replaced by something hot coiling up inside him.  He'd never felt it before and didn't have a name for it.  It wasn't quite anger, nor joy, but a strange feeling of _energy_ that he needed to burn off somehow.

But at the same time, he couldn't get the image out of his mind of the men's arms around each other.  He hugged himself tighter and walked off in a daze, unsure of his own thoughts.  All he knew was that his own arms were a poor substitute of what he wanted to feel around him right now.

* * *

So much for being a model student, Shiro thought to himself as he wiped bloodied knuckles on his pants leg.  So much for not getting into fights and _not_ getting reprimanded by each and every commanding officer in the Garrison.  He couldn’t understand how he was supposed to stand by and do nothing as a fellow student was attacked.  Wasn’t there already enough stress to go around, without having to fear for one’s life every time you went out?

His right hand was aching in time with his heartbeats.  It would form one monster of a bruise if he didn’t get it iced right away, but the injured cadet came first.  Shiro could feel his ragged breaths shuddering through his whole body as the boy tried to inhale around the pain in his chest.  He was very thankful they were almost to the infirmary, since the cadet was stumbling more and more frequently and sagging against his shoulder, and despite his looks he wasn’t that lightweight.

“C’mon, man,” Shiro said by way of conversation.  “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“Says the guy who thinks I may have broken a rib --” he ended in a bit of a gasp.

“Sorry.  I’ll stop making you talk.  We’re almost there anyway.”

“Hnn.”

Shiro fell silent and concentrated on walking without jostling his partner too much.  He’d taken the basic first aid classes back at the Japan Garrison, but in the end it looked like his hand-to-hand combat lessons were going to be more useful.  He knew that it was better to be prepared -- because clearly, there was no telling when a fight would break out -- but it was depressing all the same.  Couldn’t people exist without tearing at each other’s throats?  The Kerberos mission was supposed to look for signs of alien life, and frankly Shiro doubted that humanity was ready for alien contact.  They couldn’t even handle _one_ species without resorting to violence.

That was kinda hypocritical though.  Once he’d seen the bully throw the first punch and the skinny cadet had gone down, Shiro hadn’t given a second thought to his own safety but had thrown himself headlong into the fight.  Always a hero, always someone’s champion when they couldn’t fight for themselves.  It was a good way to gain fame, but not a safe way to live.  Shiro had no wish to be a hero, now that he’d seen the Garrison’s glamorous idea of one.  But little things, like helping a classmate out of a rough situation, that was something he could do.

“Here we are,” he said, ducking out from under the cadet’s arm as they stopped in front of the infirmary doors.  “Think you can walk on your own?”

“Yeah.  You’re not sticking around?”

“I’ve still got my own classes to go to.  You’ll be fine now that you’re here.”  Shiro turned away with a wave.

“Thanks for everything.  Say, I didn’t get your name?”

He paused.  “I’m just... a pilot.”  He didn’t need more rumors, more fan adoration, attached to his name.  “See you around.”

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Matt Holt is the best wingman. Ever. And Keith still isn't happy.

Keith got through his last class of the day in a daze, a phantom pain still lurking just inside his ribcage.  He hadn’t had a flashback that bad in _ages_ and he was still lost as to what had triggered it.  The blood?  The bully?  His mind kept returning helplessly to the solid silhouette of the rescuer.  Had someone like that saved him when he was choking on his own blood out in the abandoned field?  He couldn’t remember clearly.

He needed to see that man again.  Even if only for a moment, just enough to clear up his thoughts and let his mind move on from the incident.  The image was like a song stuck in his head, looping endlessly until he would be able to see it again.  Plus, he was a bit concerned about the man’s hand; it had looked bad in the brief glance he’d caught --

Here he was, being stupid again.  He _didn’t_ care.  He _shouldn’t_ care.  So why the hell did he?!

Feeling were dumb.  They’d gotten him into trouble all throughout his life.

_Don’t look sad, you ought to be grateful we’re giving you a home!_

_Why are you angry?  You don’t deserve anything!_

_Go on and be happy, it’ll pass quick enough.  Enjoy it while you can._

But in all that, he’d never felt this...warmth.  It felt like what he imagined family to be like, maybe.  Which was utterly wrong and stupid and unsettled him more than he liked to admit, because  _family_ would always shatter and break and hurt him even more.  Why was he developing those sorts of comforting feelings toward a total stranger?  That was just _asking_ for pain.

To shake himself out of his daze, Keith decided to eat dinner in the cafeteria instead of opening one of the many rations he’d squirreled away under his bunk for days when he felt particularly antisocial.  Being in public always made his walls activate, sealing away his thoughts so he could be on full alert, and that was just what he needed right about now.

It was taco night in the cafeteria -- not Keith’s favorite by far, but food was food and at least it was hot and there was plenty of it.  He sat in his usual spot in the back corner where he could keep an eye on the rest of the room, and despite having a table for two his quietly aggressive stare was enough to keep the other seat unoccupied.

For once he didn’t have a metric ton of homework to do, so he was able to take his time eating without worrying about hurrying back to his dorm to finish assignments.  It also meant he had the rest of the night off, and he hoped to go hang out in the library afterward -- it was a quiet place where he could be around people without having to socialize with them.  As much as he appreciated being left alone, he didn’t enjoy loneliness at all, and sometimes he just needed some very low key interaction with people.  The cafeteria was more hectic than he liked, but the library had quickly become a favorite haunt of his when he wasn’t otherwise busy.

But if he was going to make a night of it, he might as well fill up on food now.  Leaving his messy plate and napkin at the table so no one would want to steal his seat, he took his tray and headed back up to the front of the room.  People passed him on the way to find their own tables, but he wasn’t in the mood for any kind of confrontation and kept out of their way.  He could only handle so much socialization in one night.

Keith didn’t mind standing in the line so long as no one tried to talk to him, and it looked like he was going to be blessedly left alone this time.  That was, until someone touched him on the elbow and he turned sharply.

“Whoa, sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.  I was just wondering if you’re heading for that last piece of pie up there, ‘cause I’ve had my eye on it --”

Keith took an extra step away, even though after the initial touch nothing was inside his personal bubble.  He backed into the person in line in front of him, who shoved him back into place.

Green.  Green uniform, easy smile, dark eyes looking down at him.

Definitely the same person from the courtyard fight.

“Sorry,” Keith mumbled, not sure what he was apologizing for, but it seemed to placate most people in similar circumstances.  The last thing he wanted was for the chest pain and the memories to come back.  All he wanted was to grab his food and run...

“Nah, it’s okay.”  At least the man had drawn back, offput by Keith’s reaction, and didn’t seem be too pushy.  “I mean, if you really want the pie, I’m not going to stop you.”

“I’m not.  Interested in the pie, that is.  Thanks anyway.”  Keith swallowed hard and forced himself to look the man in the face.  He was positive this was the same guy from the courtyard, and it was all he’d wanted recently to be able to look at him and hope to separate the present from the past.  Might as well try to get all the details now, and sort through them later, than have to do this again.

The man’s attention moved on, eyes scouting out the rest of the room with friendly curiosity, leaving Keith the opportunity to watch him without making eye contact.  But the longer Keith looked at him, the tighter his chest got -- although it wasn’t the same ache as before, not quite.  The feeling of _energy_ returned, inexplicable and inescapable, and his palms started to sweat.  He needed to run; he needed to get out of here.  Whatever this feeling was, it was too vulnerable.  How could the shields he’d spent all his life building up, fail when they were needed most?  He could deal with anger, sorrow, intense frustration, in his own way.  But there wasn’t even a word for what he was feeling now and he felt so damn helpless.  Did he want to fight?  To run?  To...what else was there to do?

“So it looks like you’re a freshman here, right?  How are you liking it so far?”  The man’s attention had fallen back onto Keith.  It didn’t matter that he was being friendly; Keith was suddenly in no mood to deal with anyone.  Not till he could figure out how to control this new feeling.

He ducked out of line, dumping his tray on a nearby unoccupied table and hurrying back to his seat ostensibly to check his backpack.  He didn’t look back to see what the man’s reaction was; as long as he wasn’t being followed, he didn’t care.  He dropped down into the chair, hands clenched into fists to stop the shivers running up and down his arms.  Forget second course, right now he just needed to get away and curl up with a book until his mind stopped repeating the same few images over and over and over.  Even his old memories were getting corrupted, the memory of the awful day in the barn getting clouded over by the more recent fight until he could swear that the broad-shouldered pilot had rescued him ten years ago.

Keith shook his head violently.  Usually his thoughts didn’t get scrambled this badly.  Maybe he ought to skip the library tonight and go catch up on sleep instead.  If only he could get that man’s damn handsome face out of his mind!

“I hate to bother you, but you’re really not looking so well.  You okay?  I don’t know if it was something I did...”

Keith pulled his head up out of his hands and looked blankly across the table, where the empty seat was now taken by the very source of his problems.

“I’m fine,” he bit out, having half a mind to grab his stuff and run.

“Suuure you are.  Just checking.”  The man shook his head.  “Sorry.  Everyone says I make a good leader because I’m so overprotective, but I know I’m just the dad friend.  If I’m annoying you can tell me to buzz off.”  He nudged at the plate in front of him that held the last bit of apple pie the cafeteria had to offer.  “Want some?”

Keith’s blank stare had never been met with such optimistic naiveté before and he wasn’t quite sure how to react.  On the one hand he _did_ very much want to stay here and talk to the man, or listen to him, or just watch him until his brain settled down into something resembling normal thought patterns.  But at the same time he needed to get away, far away, before his heart pounded out of his chest and he suffocated on his own breath.  Damn it, he didn’t even feel this shaky in the middle of a _fight_.

“No thanks, I’m good,” he answered at last and was relieved when the man pulled the pie back toward himself and started digging in.

“More for me.”  The man wiped his mouth and smiled.  “By the way, my name’s Shiro.  I just transferred here a week ago from the overseas branch.”

“Keith.”  He extended his hand out of habit.  _Shiro.  Shiro?!  The one all the rumors centered around?  The one with stars --_

A strong grip enveloped his hand and shook it firmly.  Rough edges of cloth brushed his fingers and he realized that Shiro’s hand was bandaged across the knuckles.  That’s right.  _He saved me._ He saved the bullied cadet.

Keith’s left arm came up and he cradled the injured hand in both of his.  “‘m sorry.”

Shiro sat up a bit in surprise.  “Um.  It’s not your fault.”

“But I --”  He jerked both hands back into his lap and turned his eyes down to the tabletop.  “I gotta go.  Homework and studying and all.  Bye.”

“Not one for conversation, are you?”

But Keith was already halfway out the door, his mind in a panic.  He didn’t usually get this flustered around people, but the revelation that this man, the one his subconscious had decided to latch on to, was the future hero of space exploration and the one his thoughts had turned to _so often_ in the past many days... he didn’t know what to make of it.  There was no way he could handle being in his presence, not now that all the pieces were falling together.  The man with stars in his eyes (and yeah, Keith could kinda see how that clichéd description was still valid), the champion of the courtyard -- they were all one and the same.

Yep, Keith would have been much better off spending his time sleeping.  This was just one more layer of hurt waiting to happen.  He wasn’t sure how, just yet, but good things like this never lasted for long in his life.

* * *

Shiro was mildly amused when the cadet in front of him abruptly ducked out of line and out of sight to the back of the room.  Was his presence really that intimidating?  Although...given the rumors that were flying around the Garrison, there was no telling what the cadet had heard about him.  So much for making friends.  Being a celebrity really sucked sometimes -- more often than not, as of late.  It was so hard to find people who wanted to talk to him for his own sake, and who didn’t constantly ask questions about the Kerberos mission or how it felt to be the space program’s golden child.

But honestly that cadet had seemed more eager to get out of sight than to hold a conversation.  Shiro sighed.  At least he had Matt to talk to.

He advanced in the line and was lucky enough to nab the last piece of pie, adding it to his plate with a small smile of triumph.  It shouldn’t be hard to find an open seat around here; all he had to do was look a bit lost and there would be a dozen people offering their own chairs.  He hated that.

The brief look on the cadet’s face before he’d left irked him.  It hadn’t been fear, had it?  The glimpse Shiro had caught was hard to place, especially since he’d been looking around the room because that seemed to make the cadet more comfortable.  Glancing around the room now, it wasn’t hard to spot the dark-haired boy hunched defensively over his table by the back wall.  Something about his posture reminded Shiro of a wet cat that had gotten out of the rain but was still unhappy in its own skin.  Petting wet cats wasn’t pleasant, and he doubted that the cadet would be any more friendly, but it was worth a try.

The cadet -- Keith -- didn’t speak much past introducing himself and basic formalities.  Shiro didn’t know what he’d expected to gain from the conversation, except for the insight that Keith was definitely _not_ the type to indulge in hero worship.  In fact, the look in his eyes when Shiro first sat down was most definitely timid, and the pilot had seen the way Keith shifted in his seat, clearly contemplating bolting for the door.  But then he had settled into a mask of indifference and traded banalities until they shook hands.  And then bolted from the room like he’d been shot.

Shiro put down his fork and looked at the gauze wrapped loosely around his knuckles.  There wasn’t any blood showing through -- it was more bruised than anything else -- so it couldn’t be that Keith was hemophobic.  Maybe medical stuff brought up bad memories?  There was no knowing.  Shiro wished he’d had the opportunity to ask, because an explanation would set both himself and the cadet more at ease, but clearly Keith didn’t want companionship.

Or, like a wet cat, he wanted to handle things on his own terms or not at all.

“Hey, Shiro, what’s up?  You look down.”  Matt slid into the recently-vacated seat across from him, Keith’s remaining plate and drink notwithstanding.

“Just thinking.  The usual.”

“I know how you feel.  We’ve got the final interviews coming up in what, a week?  Pretty exciting stuff if you ask me!”

Shiro couldn’t help smiling at Matt’s overflowing enthusiasm.  There was a reason they were ranked top compatibility out of all the preliminary Kerberos teams, and there was an excellent chance that they would be the ones to actually go on the mission together.  It helped that the mission commander was Matt’s father, but at least the board of directors wasn’t as starry-eyed as all the Garrison students in terms of Shiro’s perfection.  Only the very best would make it onto the final roster.

“How do you think you’ll handle it if you get picked for the mission?” Shiro asked.  “I mean, you’ll be leaving half your family behind...”

Matt stopped slurping at his drink and set it on the table as he considered his answer.  “Well, it’s good and bad.  It’ll be hard to say goodbye to Katie and mom, but it’s only for half a year.  And it’ll be so nice to get calls from them; it’ll be something to look forward to to break up the monotony!”  He made a face.  “But yeah, it’s gonna be tough.”

He poked at his drink, moving it in small circles of gathering condensation on the table.  Shiro scraped up the last bit of pie and savored it before letting his fork fall with a clatter.

“What about you?” Matt asked at last.  “Anyone special you’ll be leaving?”

“Ha.  I wish.”  He laced his hands behind his head and leaned back to stare at the ceiling.  “No, I’ve never been very close with my parents, and you’re my only friend, so...”

“Whoa, hold up.  All those girls following you around all day, and not a single friend?  Dude, c’mon, you’re killing me here!”

Shiro halfheartedly glared at him out of the corner of his eye before returning to the ceiling.  “They’re all so shallow.  If the Garrison wasn’t trying to market me to everyone, they wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

“Well, I’m sure your hot bod counts for something.”

“Shut up!”  Shiro laughed as he jerked upright and kicked Matt’s shin.  “And what do you know, you’re not even gay.”

Matt leaned forward, both elbows on the table, and smiled conspiratorially.  “Nope, but I’m a scientist and I’m very good at evaluating things objectively.  And you, my man, are as close to a ten as we’ll see on this green earth.”

Shiro placed a hand on his heart.  “If I didn’t know you, I’d think you were coming on to me.”

“Damn, I really have to lay it on thick before you get it.  Or were you just messing with that freshman a minute ago?”

Eyebrows pulling down, Shiro gave him a quizzical look.  “Keith?  I just met him.  He’s a...strange one, that’s for sure.”

Matt narrowed his eyes, still leaning forward into Shiro’s space.  “Dude.  Dude.  You’re totally frickin’ blind.”  Seeing the continuing confusion, he leaned back and threw up his arms.  “He was practically making heart eyes at you!  And don’t think I didn’t see the way he held your hand.  He’s totally into you, man!”

But Shiro chuckled again and shook his head.  “Good one, Matt.”

“I mean it!”

“And since when are you the resident expert on romance?”

Matt shrugged, opened his mouth and shut it again quickly.  “What I’m saying is, at least give him another shot before you write him off.  I’ll admit, he did look a little lost, too, so hopefully he’s as clueless at this as you are.  Then you can be idiots in love together!”

“So now you’re a matchmaker,” Shiro commented, but he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something to Matt’s observations.  _Something_ was definitely up with the cadet, and while it was none of his business, a little idle curiosity never hurt anyone.

Piling his dishes on the tray, Shiro stood up and pushed his chair in with his knee.  “See you later tonight, Matt.”

“Go get ‘im, tiger.  Just don’t forget curfew.”

Shiro dumped his tray and headed out of the cafeteria, only to come to a stop in the corridor outside.  Even if he could find Keith, there was no guarantee that the cadet was anything other than a bit odd.  Matt could be totally wrong about their connection.

What might be worse was if he was right.  What if Keith did have feelings for him?  Was Shiro expected to reciprocate those feelings?  What would happen to them when the time came for the Kerberos mission?  Making friends almost didn’t seem worth it at this point.

Still...maybe they could just be casual friends.  Shiro could settle for that.  A deeper connection would be nice, but it wasn’t necessary.  Just someone to talk to and laugh with and brighten up a bit of the loneliness that came with being ranked among the elite.  That did sound nice.

Keith had mentioned that he had studying to do -- unless that was just his excuse for leaving -- so Shiro headed off in the direction of the library.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith has feelings. And he's maybe a bit happy about it.

It was a toss-up between going straight back to his dorm or heading to the library to unwind.  Keith knew that he would feel safer behind his locked door, but he was still feeling so jumpy after the cafeteria that maybe being completely alone wouldn’t help him.  He needed something to keep him distracted from thinking too much.  The only books he had in his dorm were textbooks, which he’d already seen enough of to last a lifetime, so off to the library it was.  For some unknown reason the Garrison had a decent selection of scifi novels in hard copy, and although the science in them was laughably outdated, they were usually entertaining enough to while away an evening.

Luckily when he got there the library was empty save for a female cadet manning the checkout desk and a couple of stressed looking graduate students whispering heatedly over a huge stack of books in a corner.  Keith headed straight to the fiction section -- he knew where it was by heart -- and randomly grabbed a Heinlein novel off the shelf.  There was a pair of couches back-to-back in the middle of the room and he curled up on one, shamelessly putting his boots on the cushions as he prepared for a relaxing evening.

He was five pages in, just enough for the plot to start picking up, when there was the soft _whisk_ of the door opening behind him.  Not minding company so long as they left him alone, he didn’t bother turning around.  There weren’t any significant tests coming up, so it was probably another bored student looking for solace in fiction.

“Heinlein, huh?  Good choice.”  Keith’s stomach flipped at the voice.  “I’m more of a Hal Clement fan myself, but I can appreciate a good space opera at times.”

Despite his eyes staying fixed on the page, his mind was racing.  _The hell?_   What was Shiro doing here?

Keith got his answer quickly enough when he heard firm footsteps head to the bookcase and stop.  He risked a glance up and saw Shiro casually browsing the books, head tilted sideways to read the spines.  What were the odds that he just _happened_ to come here from the cafeteria, not ten minutes after Keith had come here himself?  And what the hell did he want?

“Maybe I just wanted to read a book on my evening off?”

Aaand of course he had accidentally said that last bit out loud and now Shiro was looking at him judgmentally over his shoulder.

“Whatever.”  Keith returned his attention to the novel, although he remained peripherally aware of the other man.  Shiro was more of an annoyance at the moment, not a threat, and if Keith’s heart decided to act weird again, he could always go curl up in his dorm until he got control over his body.

But for the moment he was okay -- until Shiro selected a book at last and draped himself over the couch next to Keith.  For all his heavy-looking build, he was surprisingly long-limbed and easily took up the entire three-seater couch.  Keith tucked his knees up closer to himself and gripped his novel a bit tighter.  Thank the stars that Shiro was the friendly type and not prone to bullying, or none of the cadets would stand a chance.  Although the way he had moved so easily, and seemed to know his way in a fight, spoke of combat training.

Keith glanced over from the corner of his eye, but Shiro looked completely harmless at the moment, one arm behind his head propping him up, legs loose over the arm of the couch, soft and lazy.

He forced himself to focus on the book, but his brain refused to process the words.  His thoughts kept returning to the man next to him and the _coincidence_ that he’d been followed here.  Sure he’d been acting strangely, even he could see that, but that was no reason for Shiro to follow him.  The man was too much of a do-gooder and that would only lead to hurting on his part, and people taking advantage of him.  Keith knew.  He’d used to be that way before he’d learned better.

Once again, he couldn’t fathom why he cared so much for someone else’s happiness.  So what if Shiro got burned?  That was the only way to learn.  Still, the idea of him getting hurt like that made Keith ache inside.

Shiro sighed and inhaled, sounding like he was going to say something, but let his breath whistle out between his teeth and fell silent.

Keith flipped the page just to give the illusion that he was still reading, even though he had lost track of the plot at the same time Shiro had made his appearance known.  Now that he thought of it, though, he hadn’t heard Shiro get past the first page of his book.

“Hal Clement, huh?”  Might as well try to be friendly.  Maybe by initiating a conversation he would be able to steer it in an informative direction.  Such as _why he was being followed.  What did Shiro want from him?_

“Yeah.  He was one amazing scientist and it really shows in his stories.  His collection of short pieces is my favorite.”

“Really?  I can’t say that I care much for the scientific accuracy of my stories, I’m more for action and stuff,” Keith said, getting up the confidence to look across the back of the couch and make eye contact.  Shiro met his gaze for a moment but shifted quickly back to his book, which Keith was thankful for.  He hoped it wasn’t so obvious that he was uncomfortable under scrutiny.  Especially not when he couldn’t regulate his body’s reactions at the moment.  
“That’s good too.  I’m guessing you’re a pilot, then?”

Keith hummed in agreement.

“Cool.”  Shiro gave himself a fist pump at his own deduction skills.  “Me too.”

The silence returned and Keith was just coming down from the adrenaline rush of interacting with someone when Shiro murmured, “I love the stars.  Always have.”

Hands shaking, Keith shut the book and gave up on the pretense of reading.  “I don’t want the stars so much as I like the space between them.  I mean, I love the stars too, but the journey there is so much more interesting than the goal.”

“You like spaceships?”

“I like going _fast_.  And there’s so much room out there and no one to slow me down if I don’t want to.”  Keith was aware he was talking faster and louder; it wasn’t often that he got excited, but when he did there was no holding back.  “I get to go where I want, when I want.  It’s like when I’m on my hoverbike, only there’s so much _more_ out there --”

“Pssst.”

Both men looked up sharply at the harsh noise.  The librarian was glaring at them from over her glasses, making jerky shushing motions.  In the corner, the grad students had transitioned to arguing at full volume, but such things were a common enough sight around campus that they went generally ignored.

Keith lowered his voice regardless, not wanting to break the moment.  He was talking to Shiro and he felt like he was getting somewhere.  More importantly, he was actually interacting with someone and wasn’t having an attack of nerves (yet).

That happy feeling lasted until Shiro leaned closer, verging on coming over the back of the couch and lounging into Keith’s space.  “So what do you do for fun around here?  Curfew won’t allow me off campus, and the library here is only gonna be interesting for so long.”

“Well...”  Keith shrugged.  There weren’t a whole lot of options, to be honest, and his thought processes weren’t being helped at all by Shiro’s proximity.  The man’s voice dropped about an octave when he whispered, deep and rich, and Keith wanted to keep the conversation going.  “There’s always studying, I guess?”  He half laughed and was eager to see Shiro’s answering small smile.  Keith had long since given up on understanding his reasons for doing things and was just going with the flow, amazed at how good it felt.

“I don’t know why I expected any other answer from a student.  Although I’ve got to say, you don’t seem like the bookish type.  No offense, of course; clearly you’ve got a good taste in fiction.”

“It’s okay.  I hate studying, but it’s kinda necessary if I want to keep my grades up.  I’m top of my year in fighter class.”  He wasn’t sure why he added that last part.  Up until then he’d just been parroting clichés he’d overheard from other students’ conversations, and he wasn’t usually so boastful of his own accomplishments, but it was _so worth it_ to see Shiro’s grey eyes go wide in appreciation.

Grey eyes.  When had he held contact long enough to notice their color?  It took effort for Keith to drag his gaze away, and he twisted his fingers together in his lap.  He hoped the angle was right that Shiro couldn’t see how hard he was gripping his hands, the knuckles turning white under the pressure.

“That’s...pretty impressive.”  Shiro was smiling at him now, Keith could hear it in his voice, and he couldn’t force himself to look up.  His fingers slipped and his nails burned brief lines of pain across his palm.  There went his heart, racing again and he couldn’t catch his breath amid the trembling mess of his insides.  “You’re serious about going to the stars.  I admire that kind of dedication.”

He needed to get away.  He felt like he was going to throw up, and start crying, and that awful feeling of energy coiling tightly in his chest was back.  But at the same time all he really wanted was to press himself closer to the back of his couch, closer to Shiro, until he could feel the deep rumble of his voice -- and the confliction was driving him insane.  Keith was so tempted to ditch everything and run, the same as he did back at the cafeteria, but it felt too good to stay here with Shiro and he wanted to be selfish for once.  Even if he ended up hurt in the end, it would be worth it.  Right?

But Shiro had noticed his anxiety after all, and had withdrawn back to his couch with a mumbled apology.  Keith sat back, taking the opportunity to breathe, but his brain kept screaming at him that he’d screwed it up and whatever was going on was over now.

Shiro kept up the pretense of reading for only a few more minutes before closing the book and sitting up, his back to Keith.  “Well, I should probably be heading to bed soon.  See you around, pilot.”  That title, along with the sidelong grin, was enough to make Keith’s world spin backward for a second.

“Yeah, you too,” he somehow gritted out, sounding way more menacing than he’d intended.

The other man stood up and walked to the bookcase to return his novel to its place.  The librarian quickly slipped out from behind her desk and approached him, probably to make sure he didn’t misplace the book, and Keith returned to staring at his lap.  Why did he always screw stuff up so badly?  He didn’t even know what he wanted, but he was pretty sure he was losing his chance by letting Shiro walk away without even a “goodnight”.  He would never figure out his feelings at this rate.  (Did he want to fight the guy?  Hug him?  Everything was so unknown; this feeling was too new to understand.)

“I said no!”  Shiro’s voice was suddenly pitched higher, loud enough to drench the room in sudden dead silence.

Keith snapped back to reality and looked over to see that the petite librarian cadet had cornered Shiro against the shelves, her hands on his chest, and her face leaning dangerously close to his.  Shiro had his hands up defensively, but seemed loath to touch her, although his words and body language were clear enough.  He tried to move to the side but she followed him, her fingers clutching at his green uniform and pulling it tight.

Keith was on his feet before he knew what he was doing, his book thumping to the floor at his feet.  “Leave him alone!”

The girl turned just long enough to shoot him a murderous look through her cat-eye glasses, but it gave Shiro an opening to step sideways and out of her reach.  Keith took another step forward, hands clenched in unconscious fists, but she was already falling back.

“Come on, Takashi,” she said as a last resort, pouting at Shiro.  “I can make it worthwhile, I promise.  Please?”

Shiro straightened his shirt hastily -- Keith thought his hands were just barely shaking but he couldn’t be sure -- and pulled himself up to his full height.  “No thank you,” he said in a firm tone that left no room for argument.  “I’m not interested in women.  You would be happier directing your charms at someone who likes you.”  Despite the circumstances he managed to give her a small sympathetic look; it made Keith’s blood boil that he was forcing himself to be so polite when he was the victim in the situation.

“But I --”

“I said _no_.”

The woman seemed ready to continue the argument with Shiro, but Keith was advancing on her from the side with a look that would make armies turn and run.

“Fine.  But I’ll be here if you change your mind.”  She beat a hasty retreat back to her desk where she paused and looked back at Keith, then thought better of staying in the same room as him, picked up her purse, and left in the direction of the restrooms.

Shiro sighed and Keith looked over to see him massaging his temples with one hand.  The older man glanced up and caught Keith’s eyes, then looked away quickly.

“This happens a bit more than I’d like,” he admitted.  “One of the problems with being popular.”

Keith swallowed and said nothing.  He could clearly identify his feelings for the first time all evening, and it still made little sense to him.  This sick coil in his gut, the heat in his veins, the way he wanted to physically hurt the woman even though she was long gone -- it was all jealousy.  He’d felt it before, every time another child would be taken out of the orphanage, holding the hand of a smiling man or woman.  It was a familiar demon of his, although he couldn’t figure out for the life of him why he would be jealous of Shiro right now.

Unless...he wasn’t jealous of Shiro.  He wasn’t jealous of being cornered and felt up by an overzealous fan.  He was jealous of the _girl_.  Of the way that Shiro had taken the time to be polite to her, and turn her down gracefully, regardless of her aggression.  Keith wanted Shiro to look at him in the same sad, kind way he had looked at her in the moment before telling her to find someone who loved her.

But that was all so stupid.  Why would Keith ever deserve something like that, who would ever want to give him something like that.  He was a wreck, not worth the attention of someone like Shiro.

“Hey, you’re spacing out again.  Are you okay?”  Shiro’s hand touched his shoulder tentatively and he jerked away out of reflex.  “You’ve been acting strange ever since... well, pretty much ever since I met you.  Is it something I can help with --?”

“I’m fine.”  Keith backed up, creating a rift between them.

Shiro looked unconvinced but let it drop.  “Well, anyway, thanks for standing up for me.”  He shifted from foot to foot.  “I’ve never been very good at turning people down.  Too polite, I guess.  It’s really a burden sometimes.”  Keith was glad he didn’t try for a laugh; it would have sounded too fake now, contrasted with the hollowness of Shiro’s voice.  Was this what the man’s life was: wanted only for his body, used up for other’s ends?

He realized too late that Shiro was holding out his hand again, probably in some sort of commiseratory handshake -- Keith wouldn’t know, he’d never gotten this far in a friendship to know what was expected of him.

The bandage was still around his right hand.  Keith wondered if it still hurt, what the injured skin underneath looked like.  Whether Shiro would flinch at the touch, or welcome it if he was gentle.

Keith turned his head slightly and coughed into his fist because that seemed so much the better option.  If he took Shiro’s hand now there was a very good chance he’d never force himself to let go.  As it was, he just looked like a total jerk, which he was, and he ducked his head to hide his burning face behind his hair as he turned away.

But Shiro stepped forward anyway before he could react and brushed his fingers lightly over Keith’s arm, tentative and afraid of invading personal space.

“Hey,” Shiro said softly, more gently than Keith had yet heard him speak.  Then he pulled his hand back to his chest guiltily.  “Sorry.  Never mind.”

It might have been more prudent at that moment for Keith to cut his losses and run back to his dorm and scream into his pillow like he really wanted to, but he didn’t.  He let Shiro’s magnetism draw him closer, draw his eyes up to lock with that stormy gaze.

“I’m awful.”  Keith could hear his own voice and he knew these were the words that needed to be said, but the shame was hard to swallow.  “I’m being so rude to you and I’m sorry.  I don’t want to chase you off, I really don’t even if that’s what it seems like.  I just -- I just...  I don’t know.”  He wrung his hands, the gesture feeling stupid but giving him something else to focus on momentarily.  Shiro was watching him with furrowed brows, not saying anything one way or the other.  “Could we...”  Keith cleared his throat, glanced all around the library before settling back on Shiro’s collar where the gold pilot insignia glinted faintly.  “Could we be friends?”

Shiro took a quick step forward, arms coming up as if to hug him, before reining himself back.  “Sure!  I’d like that a lot.  A _very_ lot.”

Keith cracked a smile.  “That’s not even English.”

“It is in my book.”

“You’re corny.  I like you.”

Shiro laughed loud and long, and Keith would have given half his remaining life just to hear that sound again and again.  For once, it looked like he’d taken a step in the right direction.  He allowed himself to laugh along too and it felt so good, even the return of the sulking librarian couldn’t quell his spirits.

Maybe that’s what his feelings were all along.  He didn’t want to run away or fight someone, it had all been the unexpressed longing to connect with someone.  The feeling was still utterly overwhelming, but at least now he had an inkling of a name for it, and he wasn’t so quick to bottle it up any more.

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith stays up too late, is briefly really really happy, then not so much.

Curfew interrupted their time in the library, but Keith went to bed that night with a glowing warmth deep in his chest and a spreading smile across his face.  He hadn’t felt this good, this _wanted needed belonging_ , in a very long time.  Maybe not ever.  He still didn’t have a name for what he felt for Shiro.  Friendship seemed like a weak word, but anything stronger still terrified him.

He wasn’t allowed to fall in love.  That was the one emotion that he would always crush mercilessly, because the moment he allowed himself to love, that was the moment that his heart would be vulnerable, and he never wanted to feel that kind of pain.  Friendship was fine, up to a point, so he kept telling himself that that was all that this was.  Burning friendship, friendship that made his heart flutter at the thought of it, friendship that he wanted to grow deeper and stronger until he would die without it.  He felt like a caged bird seeing the sky for the first time, and it was dizzying and absolutely frightening and so damn beautiful that he thought he wouldn’t mind if he fell, crashing to his death through the whistling air, and he would die with his face to the stars.

It was _so_ bad that he had become so dependent on Shiro so quickly.  This wasn’t the way healthy relationships developed.  But then, nothing about the way he was or the way he’d been raised could be considered healthy.  Maybe this was just the kind of screwed up interaction he deserved.  Something this good didn’t feel screwed up, though, and he didn’t want to think about what the catch would be.

The next day, some of his classmates even commented on his unusually happy demeanor, and he couldn’t even muster the ire to glare at them.  He just smiled secretly and went on his way, walking on clouds.

His classes ran late that day, and he made it to the cafeteria after the main crowd had passed.  Grabbing a tray from the line up, he did a quick three-sixty of the room, but Shiro’s cowlicked dark head was nowhere to be seen.  That squashed Keith’s exuberance a bit, and he took his seat along the back wall with more gloom than normal.

It was frightening how much something so simple as Shiro’s presence or absence could affect Keith’s mood.  It felt good at times, like last night when Keith had hugged himself tight as he fell asleep and had dreamed pleasant dreams, but now it had the power to plunge him into depression.  He needed to regain his keel and keep a steady course.  The last thing he needed was for his grades to start seesawing depending on if he saw Shiro the day before or not.

Still, he purposefully left the last piece of pie sitting on its dish, half hoping that Shiro would drop by for dessert.

* * *

He really ought to visit Shiro’s dorm, if the man’s absence was affecting him this strongly.  The odds were good that Shiro had only meant their friendship to be just that, friendship -- although the way he had instinctively sought a hug after that revelation spoke otherwise.  Maybe he was just really, really exuberant about making friends.  Keith wouldn’t know.

But he couldn’t bring himself to walk over to the seniors’ dorms, even though he had the route memorized ever since the first night in the library when he had looked it up.  It wasn’t that he was afraid of appearing clingy (but he was), but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to inflict those happy feelings on himself again.

He was addicted to Shiro, no doubt about it.

And the withdrawal, when it came, would be absolute hell.

So instead of indulging himself and taking another hit of Shiro’s amazing personality, Keith bided his time in his dorm room until curfew was sounded.  He’d done this several times before even though he was fully aware of how dangerous is was, but since students weren’t allowed off-campus except on special holidays, he’d used it as a way to burn off energy -- both by the illegal nature of his actions, and by the sheer thrill of it.

He dressed in a gray undershirt and sweatpants to make himself less visible in the dim light of the nighttime corridors, and slipped out of his dorm like a wraith.  He’d timed the patrols so he knew exactly when the next one would be coming through, and he’d already scouted out which doorways he could duck into to hide.

It was a nerve-wracking process but as the fear and anticipation overtook his mind he felt more in his element.  He could deal with this kind of controlled stress, the danger that came from tempting fate and taking his future into his hands.  If the Garrison officers caught him, he’d be reprimanded at best, expelled at worst, but the risk only made the prize seem sweeter.

Keith padded down the hallways, rolling his feet to keep his steps light, until he came to the high-ceilinged room surrounding the simulator cockpit.  The overhead lights were all dark but he knew the layout of the room by heart and it was only fifteen steps before his hands were resting on the cool steel door into the cockpit itself.  He’d already cracked the entry passcode many weeks before, so it took only a familiar dance of fingertips across the keypad to make the door slide open and admit him to the ambient light and still air of the simulated ship.

He stepped inside, carefully closing and locking the door behind him, leaving it just as it should be in case the night patrol glanced this way -- then he froze and his heart dropped to his boots.

Faint music was drifting from the front of the cockpit.  The source of it was hidden by the high back of the pilot’s chair, but it was painfully clear that Keith wasn’t alone in his midnight sanctuary.  His hand crept back to the keypad.  He really _really_ ought to get out of here before he was caught, and go back to tossing and turning in his bunk.  The last thing he needed on his record was getting suspended for intruding into an officer’s private time in a locked training area.

Tentatively his fingers hovered over the pad, needing only a small impetus to get him out of there.  But he stayed for a moment longer, straining his ears to catch the beats, trying to hear the words until he realized they were in a foreign language.  Japanese?  The syllables sounded right although he had no working knowledge of the language.

His heart did a double-take then started beating twice as fast.  That would be one hell of a coincidence, wouldn’t it?

Well, he’d come all this way; no sense turning back now.  Whoever was up there didn’t seem to be aware of him anyway.  He could just sneak up, take a quick look, and be gone before they even realized they weren’t alone.

Keith slid his left foot forward, shifted his weight onto it, then moved his right foot.  It was slow going, but completely silent, and he had a lot riding on this.  If he was wrong and it was Dr. Ryu or someone, he’d be in huge trouble.

But that didn’t slow him down as he inched another step closer.  And another.

“You’re up pretty late, cadet.”

Keith panicked for a moment before placing the voice as the same smooth tenor he’d heard in the library.  So it was Shiro after all.  What luck.  He felt like he’d swallowed a live grenade and the nervousness was ticking in time with his pulse.

“Hey, Shiro.”

The man in question leaned out of the chair, twisting around to see behind him.  His face lit up when he caught sight of Keith and he made a move to stand, then stopped and gave him a small wave instead.  “Keith!”  He looked genuinely happy.  Keith’s chest clenched at the thought that just his presence had made someone feel good.  _He_ had that effect on someone.  _Amazing_.

“Sorry for not seeing you today,” Keith mumbled, realizing that this was going to be awkward.  How was he supposed to explain that he was so happy to see Shiro now, but he couldn’t make himself go visit of his own accord?

“Ah, don’t worry about it.  I had classes all day anyway.  No big deal.”  Shiro faced forward again and grabbed his media player off the controlboard where it was propped up next to his feet.  Flicking it to a lower volume, he continued, “Come here often?”

“Every once in a while.”  Keith took the engineer’s seat diagonally behind the pilot.  “It helps me focus, helps me remember why I’m slogging through all this academic crap.”

Shiro nodded his understanding.  “I feel the same way.  Only for me, it’s about to become a lot more than a hazy future.  The final decision on the Kerberos personnel will be announced tomorrow and to be honest I’m worried that they won’t pick me, and also that they _will_.  If I make it, I’m going to be seeing a lot more of this cockpit over the next six months.”

Keith leaned forward, elbows on knees, and in the confined space he was almost close enough to touch Shiro.  “You’ll do fine.  It’s your dream, isn’t it?  It’s what you want?”

“Yes but --”  Shiro stopped.  Keith could see him trying to summon a smile and falling short.  “It’s going to be pretty isolated.  Just me and Matt and Commander Holt, and no means of interaction with anyone else.”

“You’re afraid of being lonely?”

Shiro gave an aborted shrug and faced forward in his seat.  “I just feel that most guys my age are going on dates and racing bikes and getting married, and there I’ll be, a billion-something miles in the middle of nowhere with my commanding officer and a heck ton of scientific equipment.”

“Well, I can --”  Keith bit his tongue.  What, he could call Shiro occasionally and give him support?  He was just one person, and not a very inspiring one at that.  There wasn’t a lot he could offer Shiro.  He finished lamely, “I can, maybe, help?”

“Yeah,” Shiro said, turning the music off completely.  “That would be nice.”  His eyes were tight and there were definitely cracks in his facade, and Keith could see the real person underneath the layer of impenetrable politeness.

Keith felt he should leave; he always wanted to be alone when he felt vulnerable, and he didn’t want to be an uncomfortable witness to Shiro’s personal pain.  But -- _did_ he want to be alone?  Keith could remember endless nights of sitting on his bed holding himself because no one else would.  How much he’d ached for someone to lean on and cling to.  Maybe...maybe Shiro would want those things too?  The part of his insides that had felt the pangs of jealousy before, was now whispering contentment and _stay_ , and he wanted so badly to give in to the temptation.

This felt good, sitting here with Shiro, and Keith had had so little of that in his turbulent life that this moment seemed worth any price.

“It’s okay,” Keith said, shifting his feet as he said words he never thought he would speak aloud to another person.  “I...I feel the same way too.  I know what it feels like.  I mean, I think I do.”  Was he being too presumptuous?  “You don’t have to keep pretending to be someone you’re not, not around me at least.”

“That’s...um, thank you.”  Shiro swiveled the chair around to face him fully, and although he didn’t exactly smile, his look was so sincerely grateful that Keith had to resist the urge to get up and take him into his arms.  (Which was stupid, again, because Keith had never done that for anyone and he had no idea why he was thinking of such things.)  But his heartrate was calm for the first time all evening and he was glad for all the decisions that had led him to this moment.

“So.”  Keith stood up.  It was getting too headily emotional for him and he needed to change the mood before the urge to run (or do anything else stupid) came back.  “Can I call to be the pilot?”

Shiro’s grin showed his teeth.  “I can be comm officer.  We’ll have to do without an engineer this time.  Really test our skill, y’know?”

“You think I’m not up to it?”  Keith was bouncing on his heels.  _This_ atmosphere he could handle, a friendly rivalry that would give them both what they needed.  “Load up any simulation you like and I’ll take it on!”

“Cocky much, cadet?”

Keith gave him a wild grin and threw himself into the recently vacated pilot’s seat.  “Better strap in, officer.  This is gonna be a ride to remember!”

* * *

They were just preparing for their final approach to the rocky surface of the simulated Kerberos when the lights in the main room outside turned on blindingly bright.  Heavy hands shoved open the hatch to the cockpit and Iverson’s irate voice flooded through.

“WHO THE HELL IS UP AT THIS HOUR!”

Keith slammed the emergency shutdown button and the simulation vanished into thin air.  His fingers were shaking so badly he could barely unfasten the safety harness, and a terrified glance sideways showed that Shiro was in a similar state.

_Shitshitshit--_

Shiro stumbled out of the cockpit first and snapped to a rigid attention just outside the door.  He was joined a moment later by Keith, who ended up staring fixedly over the heads of the officers, sweating and praying that the end would be swift.

Iverson was there, as well as Hedrick and three other officers whose names Keith couldn’t recall at the moment.  Regardless, it was most of the head staff and there were more than enough of them to kick him out permanently and completely.

“WHOSE IDEA WAS THIS MIDNIGHT ESCAPADE?” the one-eyed commander bellowed.

Keith jumped and his mouth went dry; try as he might, the words wouldn’t come and his mouth hung open uselessly.

“I did, sir.  I hacked the keypad and got in.  I thought it would be fun.  I regret my actions, sir.”  The words came from Shiro, body taut as he tried not to let his shaking show.  Keith gaped at him but still couldn’t speak.

“You know that goes against Garrison rules about curfew and trespassing and tampering with equipment, right?”  At least Iverson was down to a more reasonable volume, but the other officers seemed content to let him handle the ranting on his own and stood stoically by.  None of them looked forgiving.

“I am aware, sir.”

How on _earth_ did Shiro keep his voice so even?  Keith could barely remember how to breathe, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man.  _Of course_ Shiro would take the fall for this.  Too soft-hearted, too do-good, he’d always get burned in the end.

Keith croaked out a hoarse breath that the officers didn’t deign to hear.

“And the cadet is with you _why_?”

“I needed someone to be my copilot.  He was under coercion; it’s not his fault.”

Suddenly the ray of hate from Iverson’s eye was on Keith, burning his skin like a laser.  “Speak up.  Is this correct?”

“Yes, sir,” he whispered, then another surge of adrenaline cleared his lungs and he said louder, “yes, sir, it’s all correct.”

The glare of death was transferred back to Shiro.  “I think we need to talk, Pilot Shirogane.  You seem to think you’re a big shot around here and you’re not.  Maybe the Japanese branch was lax about its rules, but I can assure you that is not the case here.  Come with me.”

Iverson turned and marched from the room.  In the silence following his departure, Hedrick stepped forward and surveyed the two victims.  “I don’t know which of you is really at fault here -- I have a feeling, Shirogane, you know better, but if you want to bring this down on yourself, be my guest.  We’re not going to go easy on you because of your mission standing.”  He motioned to the door where Iverson had gone.  “Now get moving.  Kogane, you’re dismissed unless Shiro decides to come clean as to your involvement, but I swear if I hear of another infraction from you in the mean time, you will be _out._ Understand?”

He didn’t wait for an answer as he followed in Iverson’s steps, the other commanders following suit.  Shiro might have turned to give Keith some sort of encouraging expression -- or maybe to seek encouragement for himself -- but Keith still didn’t have control over his body to look at him.

It wasn’t until the last of the footsteps had faded away and the lights were automatically returning to dim that he forced his arm down from his frozen salute and took a deep trembling breath.

They wouldn’t dare expel Shiro.  Not when the Garrison had put so much effort into promoting him, not when he was already unofficially the Kerberos mission’s pilot.  Keith wasn’t sure what they would do to him; it certainly wouldn’t be good, but if news of this leaked it would be blown into a huge scandal that the space program couldn’t afford.

But if Shiro had been honest, or Keith hadn’t been paralyzed senseless, then that would have been the abrupt and utter end of Keith’s academic career.  It would have bee so easy for them to kick him out and he never would have been heard from again.  Even now he couldn’t believe that he was out of danger.  Shiro had saved him.  Keith had trouble comprehending having that much loyalty for someone.  Although...if their positions had been reversed, would he have taken the fall for Shiro?  He wanted to think that he would.

He _knew_ he would.

He’d found one friend and he wasn’t about to let him slip away.

For now though he had no choice but to bide his time and think of a way to sufficiently thank Shiro when he came back from his punishment.  Damn, he could _kiss_ the man he felt so grateful.

Well.

That was a thought to hold on to.

Keith moved at last, boots scuffing and sounding much louder than usual after the lengthy silence.  All of his restlessness had drained away with the fading adrenaline and he was suddenly exhausted.  Ideally he wanted to stay up until he knew Shiro’s fate, because that was what friends did for each other, right? -- but he doubted he could do that at the moment.

This night’s incident put a stop to all future clandestine adventures, which sucked beyond belief, but at the same time he was unexpectedly happy.  Shiro had stood up for him.  Theoretically that could have just been Shiro’s overactive sense of justice and friendship and all, but Keith took it as a sign of his commitment to their relationship.  Keith himself wouldn’t take the blow for just anyone, and he hoped he could apply that same logic to the other man.

Now the question foremost in his mind as he stayed in the shadows and snuck back to his room was, once again, deciphering his emotions.  Surely this sort of admiration deserved a stronger name than friendship.  Keith knew a stronger word, even though he had never felt it himself before, he knew of its existence and _wanted_ to believe that it was what he was experiencing now.

Love.

He loved Shiro.

The door to his dorm slid shut and clicked behind him.  Keith’s right hand was clenched in his orange uniform shirt, clutching hard over his heart as every beat thrummed through his body like pulses of fire.  This was a dream.  This couldn’t be real.

“Shiro...”  His voice crystalized his thoughts into existence.  If he could say it, it would be real.  So Keith’s lips shaped the soft sounds of words he never thought he would ever get to say to anyone.  “Shiro.  I love you.  And I hope I get to spend time with you, forever and ever.”

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith finally gets to be happy, and stays that way. Shiro, too.

The next week was crushingly lonely as Keith didn’t see Shiro at all.  He wanted to thank him, he really did, but once again he was too scared to risk it.  If any of the Garrison officers caught wind of them hanging out together, they might remember Keith’s involvement with the simulator incident and assign some punishment to him on principle.  Also there was the fact that he hadn’t yet figured out a way to properly thank Shiro; words weren’t his forte, nor did they seem sufficient anyway, and he couldn’t think of anything else he could offer.

In the lunchtime cafeteria, the chair across the table from Keith was no more empty than usual, but he felt it so much more than before.  Which was stupid, because Shiro had sat there all of one time.  Keith morosely picked at his chicken-and-gravy and wondered what Shiro’s favorite kind of pie was.  Maybe he should see if the cafeteria had any left today, and smuggle out a piece and leave it outside his dorm.  _Gosh_ he was childish.

“You are Keith Kogane, right?”  A voice startled him out of his thoughts as someone slid into the open seat, clad in a green uniform.  His heart did half a flip before settling; it wasn’t Shiro, nor was it some officer coming to talk to him (he was still afraid of that happening, even though he trusted Shiro not to give him away).  But this was some unknown young man with thick glasses and chestnut hair and a grin that was too wide to be sincere but looked genuine anyway.

“Yeah.”

“Awesome.  I’m Matt Holt.  Shiro’s roommate.”  He held out his hand and Keith took it with a lot more enthusiasm than he’d shown a moment before.

“How’s he doing?  What did the Garrison do to him?  I hope he came out okay.”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down.  He’s fine -- a bit depressed, understandably, since they said he wasn’t allowed free time any more -- and he asked me to give you a message.”

“No free time?” Keith asked in a tiny voice.  That was harsh.  He felt cold inside just thinking about it; it wasn’t like the Garrison had much to offer in terms of leisure activities to begin with, but to have that small privilege taken away was cruel.

“Yeah, he’s supposed to report in to Iverson as soon as he gets out of classes.  I’m not sure what goes on exactly, but he has to hang out in the office until curfew.  I heard that if they catch him talking to you, they’ll sentence you to the same.”

“Oh.”  Now it made sense that he hadn’t caught sight of Shiro and he was glad he hadn’t tried to arrange a meeting and made all Shiro’s sacrifice for naught.

“Yeah, well, Shiro says it sucks that he can’t see you, but he’s glad for it too because it means they decided to drop any charges of trespassing or whatnot against you.  Anyway, before I get distracted, here’s the letter.”  Matt handed over an envelope with the Garrison’s seal in the corner scribbled out.

“Thank you,” Keith said, reaching for it with both hands and holding it in his lap.  When Matt had said there was a message, Keith was expecting a verbal _how have you been_ , not an actual old-fashioned letter with his name in neat handwriting and everything.  This was...a lot more formal -- and romantic? -- than word-of-mouth or an email.

There was a moment of quiet, the letter weighing in Keith’s lap like it was made of gold.  Matt took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt in a gesture that looked more like a restless tic than necessity.

“So --” they both spoke at once and stopped immediately.  Keith leaned back in his chair and motioned for Matt to continue first.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what do you think of Shiro?  I’m curious, but also I’m his friend and I don’t want to see him get hurt.”

“I’m not going to hurt him!”  Keith bristled.  “He’s my friend too now.”

“Okay, okay,” Matt said, holding up both hands.  “Misunderstanding.  What I meant was, you might hurt him accidentally or he might do it to himself or --  Anyway, I’ll make this simple.  Are you _only_ his friend?”

Keith paused again as the full extent of the words sank in.  “Well, I’m not really sure.  I’d _like_ to be more, but I’m not sure what he feels.  I don’t want to just throw myself on his good will and hope he picks up the slack.”

“And what would you say if I told you he’s thinking pretty much the same thing right now?  He knows you like him, but he’s been so flooded with attention ever since coming here that now he takes everyone with a grain of salt.  He’s afraid you’re just another fan.”

“What do you think of me?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, it’s said that you can judge a man by his friends.  So I’m asking your opinion.  Do _you_ think I’m a good fit for Shiro?  You know him better than anyone.”  Keith was leaning forward now, arms resting crossed on the table and his expression open and sincere.

Matt copied his position, sitting up straighter and adjusting his glasses.  His goofy grin was gone and he suddenly looked like the brilliant xenobiologist he was said to be.  “I think that Shiro will be happy with anyone who’s happy with him.  I don’t wanna try psychoanalyzing him here, that’s not my specialty, but his mood definitely changes when he talks about you.  I think you’re good for him.  He needs someone he can talk to, other than me I mean, and you’ll be staying here on Earth during the Kerberos mission, so he’ll have your calls to look forward to.  Because you’d better call him, you hear me?”

Keith nodded mutely; it was a lot of information to process, and every word brought a rush of endorphins that made higher thinking difficult.  “Thank you.”  He stood up and gave a deep, awkward bow.  Old-fashioned, like a lot of his mannerisms, but he hoped it conveyed what he was feeling.  Even if it didn’t, the smile that he couldn’t help spreading across his face was a dead giveaway.  “I -- I’m really grateful.  Thank you again.  I’m, um...”

“You’re dancing in place, waiting to tear into that letter, I can tell.”  Matt’s smile was back full force.  “Go on then!  Who am I to keep you two apart.”

Keith made another perfunctory bow, because at the moment moving was easier than speaking, and raced out of the cafeteria.  He wanted to be alone when he read the letter, not because he was afraid of what it would say -- Matt had alleviated those fears completely -- but because he didn’t want the entire cafeteria to see him making a fool of himself and clutching his chest and laughing, because that was what he felt like doing _now_ and he hadn’t even opened it yet.

He entered his dorm like a whirlwind and whipped his knife out of the desk drawer where it was hidden from random room inspectors.  The blade sliced cleanly through the paper and he tossed it aside as he withdrew the letter with shaking fingers.

_Hey Keith!_

_It’s really rough not being able to say this all in person, but I’m hoping some of the emotion shows through.  First off, I’m terribly sorry for not being able to see you these last few days, but Iverson’s being a bitch and won’t let me out of his sight.  Gilded cage and all that crap, I guess.  Maybe they’re afraid you’ll convince me to stay grounded; clearly they never talked to you and realized your love of the stars._

_Anyway, enough of that.  I’m hoping you got off easy because otherwise heads are going to roll.  You deserve better._

_I can’t wait to see you again.  I feel like we’re already good friends, but we’ve never talked about ourselves much.  Like, I don’t know your favorite food or color or music (sukiyaki, warm gray, and Daichi Miura, respectively, in case you’re interested).  But I do know that you are very smart, and brave, and once you open up you’re a joy to be around.  I’d like to hang out with you more._

_There’s a lot more that I want to say, but I think I’d better wait until I can see your reaction.  I don’t want to overstep any boundaries accidentally but... yeah.  You’re a cool guy and I really like you._

_Okay, enough sap for now, right?_

_Looking forward to seeing you soon!_

_Shiro_

Well.  Someone clearly wasn’t very contrite about getting caught.  He also wasn’t ashamed to write that _he liked Keith and there was more he couldn’t write but wanted to_.  Keith jumped up from his desk and made a dozen dizzy spins through the small room, arms around himself, smiling and laughing and making breathless happy noises until he fell backwards onto the bed.  He stayed there, staring up at the ceiling incredulously, as tears ran down his face in joy.

“Shiro, I love you.”

* * *

Two days later the weekend rolled around.  Keith still hadn’t seen Shiro, nor Matt.  His wastebasket was full of wadded paper as he’d tried to write a suitable response to Shiro’s letter, but he couldn’t get the words right and gave up after numerous attempts.  He doubted he’d be any more eloquent in person, but at least that gave him an excuse to put it off.

It was Friday night now as Keith was heading back to his dorm after a late dinner in the cafeteria.  There was still homework to be done but he didn’t feel like sitting at his desk wrestling with physics problems; it left too much room for his mind to wander.  The library beckoned, but he couldn’t go there, either, without thinking of Shiro.  Damn, Keith missed him.

“Psst!”  Suddenly there was a green-clad arm around his shoulders, steering him into an unoccupied hallway.

“Matt?” Keith hissed in surprise.

“Yup.  Now listen up; I need to hurry before someone sees us.  Shiro got the weekend off so he’s heading into town.  Actually, he left after dinner, about twenty minutes ago.  If you’re free tonight, you might be able to catch up with him.”

“Really?”  Keith twisted around to face the other student.  “You’re serious?”

“When am I not serious?  Anyway, if you’ve got a car or bike or something, that would be good, too.  That guy can walk fast when he wants to get out of sight.”

“Thanks a ton!”

“No problem.  Just remember me at the wedding, you hear?”

Keith nodded and gave a slightly hysterical laugh as Matt released him.  He took off down the corridor, stopping by his room only long enough to strip out of his Garrison uniform and into his favorite black tee and red jacket.  Grabbing his hoverbike keys from the hook over his desk, he bolted back outside, nearly knocking over a group of cadets.  He drew some stares for being out of uniform, but it was almost the weekend when anything was permitted.  Besides, good luck to anyone trying to catch him right now; he was running dangerously fast through the halls, skidding around corners and shoving past other pedestrians without care.

Luckily there was no one on duty watching the underground garage, so Keith was able to get his bike up and humming without any questions as to where he was going in such a hurry.  The wide doors opened automatically and he coasted through, keeping his speed down despite the boiling urgency in his body.  The last thing he wanted now was to be pulled over by Garrison security, so he squeezed the handlebars painfully tight and held himself back until he passed through the main gates of the campus.

Then, once the buildings were hidden behind an outcropping of rock, he let the engine roar to full speed.  The wind screamed past his face and yanked at his jacket, and he sat upright, steering one-handed, and yelled into the rushing force.  He couldn’t even hear his own voice and he screamed again, throwing all of his pent up emotions into the cry.  It felt so good to let loose at last.

But he slowed the bike again after a moment, not out of concern for traffic laws but because he didn’t want to pass Shiro by accident.  The highway was surprisingly empty for a Friday evening, but Keith wasn’t complaining.  Off to his right the sun was just touching the horizon, flooding the gray desert with brilliant orange light and casting enormous shadows from the distant scarps and rock formations.

There!  Up ahead on the side of the road was a moving shape.  Keith cut the engine down to a crawl and pulled up alongside.  Shiro stopped and turned to face him, smiling.  He was dressed in a gray shirt and vest instead of his uniform, and on his back was a lumpy pack that dragged his shoulder down with its weight.

“Hey,” Keith said breathlessly, hoping his voice wasn’t noticeably hoarse from the wind.

“Fancy meeting you out here,” Shiro said.  “The officers can’t fault us for a chance meeting, right?”

“Yeah.  I mean no.  Um.”  Keith’s senses had deserted him, all the words that he’d wanted to say over the past several days trying to climb up his throat simultaneously.  “Want a ride?”

For answer, Shiro slung his pack into the cargo rack of the bike, then easily climbed aboard behind Keith.  His knees touched the back of Keith’s thighs, and one hand rested on Keith’s side for stability.

“Is this okay?” Shiro asked.

Keith sucked in a breath and wrapped sweaty palms around the handlebars.  “Yeah,” he breathed.  “Where do you want to go?”

“Well, did you have any plans for the night?  If not, I’ve got an idea.”

“We could...”  Keith’s mind scrambled for an answer.  What did people -- definitely friends, possibly more-than-friends -- do together?  “I dunno.  There’s a theater in town.  What’s your favorite movie?”

Shiro chuckled and Keith could feel the tremor of it through the bike.  “I don’t know.  I’ve never been big into movies much.  However, I did bring some stuff that might be fun, if you don’t mind driving cross-country a bit.”

“Let’s do that then.”  Keith turned so he could see over his shoulder with one eye.  Behind him, Shiro’s face was cast in shadow as the sun slid further below the horizon and twilight started to set in.  But there was just enough light left to catch in Shiro’s eyes like fire, and Keith was mesmerized.

“Okay then.”  Shiro paused, looking back at Keith until the younger man couldn’t stand the intensity and glanced away.  “You ready to go?”

“Yeah.”  He revved the engine once.  “You, uh -- you can hold on tighter if you need to.  I have a tendency to drive fast.”

Even though he couldn’t see it, he knew Shiro was smiling as he replied, “All right then.”  A strong arm settled around Keith’s waist and tightened gently.  “Take a heading of oh-three-five for seven clicks.”

“Yes _sir_.”  The hoverbike peeled off the road and out into the desert, leaving plumes of dust in its wake.

Eventually a rocky plateau appeared in the distance and Shiro shouted over the roar of the wind that that was their destination.  Keith couldn’t wait to see what Shiro had planned but at the same time he wanted this ride to go on forever.  Over time Shiro had relaxed more and more against him until now his chest was pressed to Keith’s back and both arms were cradled around his torso.

Keith brought the bike to a stop at the base of the twenty-foot-tall outcrop and pocketed the keys.

“So what are we doing here, anyway?” he asked.  Shiro jumped to the ground first and offered Keith his hand, which he didn’t need but took anyway.

“You’ll see,” Shiro replied, swinging his pack to his shoulder.  “You good at climbing?”

Keith eyed the rockface.  It wasn’t particularly steep, with plenty of handholds and flat places to stand.  “Race you to the top?”

“Yeah, yeah.  Showoff.  I’m carrying thirty pounds of equipment!”

Apparently it would take more than thirty pounds to slow Shiro down, as he reached the top plateau at the same time Keith did.  The rock was worn smooth by centuries of wind and sand, and it gave a grand view of the desert and the endless dome of the sky.  Keith tilted his head back and spun in a slow circle, taking in the last of the deep purple sunset that was fading to black velvet, scattered with stars and the dim smudge of the Milky Way.  It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen --

His foot slipped out from under him on the smooth stone and he flailed backward, catching a glimpse of the ground many feet below.  There wasn’t even time to shout before Shiro’s arm was around his shoulders holding him steady and pulling him away from the edge.

“You okay?”  Shiro’s voice was filled with concern and Keith nodded.

“Thanks,” he replied, feeling his face heat up with embarrassment.

Shiro clapped him on the back and stepped away.  “Happens to the best of us.  Anyway, before you go killing yourself, would you like to lend a hand?”  He bent down and retrieved a thick canvas blanket from the backpack, flapping it out and laying it on the rock.

Keith looked at it askance.  “We’re not sleeping up here, are we?”

“Not unless you want to.  I just brought the blanket to sit on.  Oh, and I’ve got snacks too, if you get hungry.”  Shiro tossed a handful of emergency rations in Keith’s direction.

Keith chuckled.  “If this is your idea of wining and dining me, it kinda sucks.”

Looking up from his backpack, Shiro pouted at him.  “I’m just a poor college student; what did you expect?”  He stood up with an armload of shiny black metal pieces.  “Anyway, who needs a dinner date when we’ve got the stars!”  He started unfolding parts of the metal contraption, and within minutes there was a very large tripod set up on the rock, with the sleek barrel of a telescope perched on top.

Keith’s eyes were wide as saucers by the time Shiro was done and turned to him with a cheesy grin.  “Is this okay with you?”

“ _Dude_.”  Keith stood up and came over, attention switching between the telescope and Shiro.  “ _Awesome_.”

“I’m so glad you’re a nerd like me.”  Shiro touched Keith’s hand for a moment, but pulled back before Keith could move to actually hold hands.  “Let me show you how to focus it.”

Shiro showed him countless stars and nebulae, rattling off their names and properties that Keith had read in the textbooks but never seen for himself.  Sirius was the brightest, a giant blue-white star that dominated the sky and left spots dancing in front of Keith’s eyes when he looked at it too long through the telescope.  Glancing at his watch, Shiro reached for the end of the barrel and dragged it around to point just above the eastern horizon.

“Jupiter should be rising any minute now.  You can even see the moons through the ‘scope if you know where to look.”  He laughed to himself.  “I got this telescope back when everyone thought there was life on Europa, so of course the first thing I looked at was Jupiter.  It took me _forever_ to figure out how to bring this thing into focus, so for a while I was actually looking at the streetlight across the road without realizing it!”

Keith swiveled the barrel horizontally until he caught sight of a bright speck just cresting over the distant rocks.  “I think I found it!”  He backed off to give Shiro a turn, and stood beside him while he fiddled with the knobs and lens.  Keith glanced down at the smooth curve of Shiro’s back as he bent over, the nimble movements of his fingers, the way his face was creased in concentration as he squinted into the view piece.  Forget watching the sky, all he wanted now was to watch Shiro and never look away.

Shiro glanced up eventually and caught Keith’s eyes and neither looked away for a long minute.

“We can...just sit and talk for a while.”  Shiro sat down on the blanket, where Keith joined him a moment later, sitting crosslegged just far enough away that their legs weren’t touching.

“Can you see Kerberos from here?” Keith asked.  The starlight was gleaming softly on Shiro’s face, leaving dark pools of shadow around his eyes and the dark sweep of his hair.

Shiro shook his head slowly.  Leaning back on his elbows, he stretched his legs out to their full length and tipped his head back.  “No, Pluto is too small and far away, and Kerberos is even smaller.  You’d have to have a telescope the size of a house to see it, and even I’m not a nerd enough to own that!”  There was just the slightest hint of sadness under his words that made Keith look away uncomfortably.

Kerberos was so far away it wasn’t even visible from Earth.  If Shiro went there -- _when_ he went there -- he himself would be so very far from home and everything he knew.  Keith knew what that kind of loneliness felt like and he ached for Shiro.  Now that he thought about it, the launch date for the mission was only six months away -- six months that had seemed so long before, but now seemed far too short a time for their relationship to grow and blossom and become strong enough to withstand being separated for a year.  Keith felt tears sting his eyes and he let his head drop to his hands, camouflaging himself with the gesture of tucking his hair behind his ears.

Surely this same freezing fear had occurred to Shiro as well.  Keith looked over but the other man was turned away, still sitting stretched out but his body language was more subdued than before.  Maybe these same thoughts had played through his head before; they were back with a vengeance now, and Keith knew that this night was Shiro grasping desperately at something that he was afraid he would never have again.

Keith didn’t give any warning or explanation for what he did next, and he hoped one wasn’t needed, as he leaned over and bridged the small gap between them.  Startled, Shiro turned toward him at the sudden movement, but he didn’t protest at all as Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck and silently clung to him.  The bigger man didn’t move for many long heartbeats until finally Keith felt him inhale heavily, almost a sob but not quite, and he put his arms around him in return and bowed his head against Keith’s shoulder.  Clearly all of it _had_ been apparent to Shiro and it felt like he had just been waiting for someone to push through his walls and offer him comfort.

Sympathy wasn’t really Keith’s strong point, but this wasn’t only sympathy, since he felt the same hurt too and was looking for happiness in Shiro’s embrace as much as Shiro was looking for it in Keith’s.

They sat that way for a long time, not moving, not talking, not crying.  Keith’s knees went numb where he was kneeling on the rock, but he didn’t care.  This was a new experience for him and he decided that he liked it very much and he would stay there as long as he could.

Shiro’s arms were warm around his body, Shiro’s breath whispering across his collarbone.  _This_ was bliss.  Keith gave up on denying himself any longer.  The strange heat that he had felt in his gut -- he now had a name for it, and welcomed it wholeheartedly.  _I love you, Shiro_.

But all too soon Shiro pushed him back with a hand on his shoulder and Keith sat down, their knees touching, as Shiro looked into his eyes instead.  There was just enough light for Keith to make out the contours of Shiro’s face, the soft glow illuminating his cheekbones and the strong line of his jaw.  Deep inside the shadows under his eyebrows, his eyes glinted with the tiniest drops of light.

Keith couldn’t breathe as he could all but feel Shiro’s eyes sweeping over his face, taking in every barely-visible detail.  What was it that Shiro saw in him?  He was just another cadet, more morose than most, who didn’t even know how to love someone properly.  But Shiro believed in him, had called him good and honest and brave, and Keith clung to that with all his being.

Just as he was getting used to this new position, drinking in the darkness and the _stars_ in Shiro’s eyes (damn, those girls had been right), the other man moved again and leaned forward, licked his lips nervously and --

Keith felt his stomach lurching and crashing into his heart, which was now lodged up in his throat, and his brain simply shut down.  He was a quivering mess of frayed nerves but he wanted this _wanted this wanted this_ as he leaned in too.

Shiro’s breath was warm across his cheek, then his lips, and Keith sucked in a breath so fast it was painful.  This was actually happening to him?!

Then their mouths touched and Keith stopped breathing altogether, just feeling soft skin against his own, his lips trembling, his hands coming up by themselves to grip the thick muscle of Shiro’s shoulders.  He felt Shiro move, one hand cradling his waist and the other threading through his hair and cupping the back of his head.

They kissed and kissed, hardly taking the time to steal shallow breaths against each other’s cheeks before coming back for more.  Keith wanted to cry, and maybe he already was, because this was just _too good_ and he wanted _more_ and this was everything that he had ever, ever wanted in his life.  His chest was about to explode with love.

Shiro pulled back first, his hands not leaving Keith’s body.

“Was that okay?”

Keith huffed out a breath and shuffled closer on his knees.  “Please, do it again?”

Shiro obliged him, beginning by pressing his lips hard to Keith’s forehead, then the tip of his nose, and finally returning to his mouth.

“I’m glad I met you,” he murmured, bringing Keith in for another embrace.

“Me too.”  Keith buried the words into the crook of Shiro’s neck.  “Shiro, I --”

“You don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to.  I’m happy right now.”

“I am too.  And I just -- there’s something I need to tell you.  You’ve taught me how to feel, there’s this new emotion that I was afraid of at first, but now I know...”  Keith gulped and forced himself to pull back, looking Shiro in the face.  “I love you.”

Shiro’s breath stopped for a moment, then his hands were tightening on Keith’s biceps.  “Do you mean it, do you really mean it?”  Keith nodded vigorously, trying to make the other man understand how much he was overflowing with unexpected feelings for him.  Shiro’s mouth opened and he stuttered helplessly for a moment.  If the starlight had been a little brighter, it would have been clear how deep red he was blushing as he locked eyes with Keith again.  “I, um, I really love you too.”  He took Keith’s right hand in both of his and kissed the knuckles one by one.  Keith shyly offered his other hand next and was delighted when Shiro took it, too.  Then he leaned in for another kiss on the lips, and something released in his chest.  It was like a door that had been shut for years was suddenly broken open and there was _happiness_ waiting just beyond the threshold.

Keith leaned forward more, gripped tighter, kissed more deeply.  This was what he needed, this this _this_ , and he was never going to let it go.

“Shiro, I love you.  I love you.”

 

 

 


End file.
